


I'm not Negan

by renateamalie



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Developing Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Internal Conflict, Other, Post-Apocalypse, Punishment, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Smut, Swearing, Violence, Walkers (Walking Dead)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-11
Updated: 2017-11-15
Packaged: 2019-02-01 00:17:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12693123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/renateamalie/pseuds/renateamalie
Summary: "I am not, nor will I ever be Negan", "Doll, just you wait and fucking see"





	1. Nightmare

**Author's Note:**

> Authors Note: Negan will not be making an appearance until the second chapter, and as we all know he loves to make an entrance ;)

“You going out looking like **_that_**?”, he crossed his arms over his chest - leaning his broad shoulders against the doorframe. His greedy eyes traced over your body, clearly disapproving of your choice of outfit for the night ahead. The black leather skirt clung to your hips and displayed a generous amount of legs. Pairing that with your favourite Guns N’ Roses v-neck and high heels - you felt ready for a night out at the local pub.  
  
One of your closest friends had just said ‘yes’ to marry her high school sweetheart, a clear cause for celebration.  
  
Grabbing your crimson coloured lipstick from your makeup bag, you quickly applied it to your lips before meeting his stare through the reflection in the mirror. His lips were pursed, the veins in his neck throbbing steadily.  
  
“I hate it when you wear that shit on your face”, he muttered through clenched teeth.  
  
“It’s only lipstick, Shane”, you mumble.  
  
Turning around you went to leave the room, only to be stopped by Shane’s broad and muscular frame blocking the exit. Raising his eyebrows, he flashes you a mocking smile.  
  
“You looking to impress anyone, huh?”, he leans towards you until you can smell the alcohol on his warm breath. He placed his hands on your hips, slowly making his way down to your naked skin under the hem of your skirt.  
  
“Shane, don’t”, you warn - tilting your head up to meet his gaze.  
  
Please, let me wipe that fucking smile off his face. You had thought about leaving him— _hell_ — these days it was all you ever thought about. To just pack your bags and take off, never looking back. Pushing past his tall frame, you quickly grabbed your clutch from the bedside table and bolt towards the door.  
  
“You want to dress like a fucking whore, be my **fucking** guest!”, he shouts after you. The sound of his heavy footsteps sending echoes between the four walls. Your heart hammers against your chest as you reach the front door, hastily turning the doorknob and making your way down the paved footpath towards the open streets. Your calves burning with every step as you try to steady your breathing, willing the tears gathering in the corners of your eyes to stay fucking put.  
  
Shane leans out the front door, his hoarse voice causing the hairs on the back of your neck to stand up.  
  
“You’re nothing Becca, you hear me? You’re **_nothing_** without me!”  
  


Your eyes peer open as you bolt upright in bed. Cold sweat pours down your face, drenching the cotton sheets. What the **fuck** was that? Swinging your legs out from the bed, your feet collide with the cold floorboards. Grabbing your muddy boots from under the bed, you tie the laces before standing up straight. It seemed ridiculous having nightmares of your previous relationship with Shane when the real nightmare laid beyond the four walls currently surrounding you. Surely there were more important things to occupy your unconscious thoughts — like trying not to **die** .  
  
The world you once knew was gone. The streets were now overrun by walkers, their staggering bodies roaming the world with one purpose, and one purpose only — to rip the flesh off your bones. The cities were the first to fall, the number of infected expanding at rapid speed. A bite, a scratch - and that was it. If you weren’t fortunate enough to be instantly ripped to shreds, your suffering would make you wish you had been. As the supply of human flesh started growing scarce, the dead vacated the cities in large herds. Their constant moans serving as a never-ending reminder that you were never truly safe anymore.  
  
Walking over to an oval-shaped mirror hanging on the wall, you pull your auburn hair up into a high ponytail before grabbing your oversized camo jacket from a wooden chair in the corner. The air is biting cold, showcasing every breath as a plume of white stream. Wrapping your jacket around yourself, you step gingerly out of the bedroom.  
  
Winter was approaching fast, causing the autumn leaves to fall from the tall trees outside. The brown and yellow leaves coating the muddy paths in the countryside. Desperate for shelter, your group was forced to take up residence in this abandoned farm-house far from any shred of civilization. Though it was more convenient than sleeping on the frosty soil — moving day in and day out — the rotting condo offered no protection from the morning coldness creeping through the gaps.  
  
Reaching the spacious living room, you find a tall body face down on the cramped couch. The man’s chestnut locks were ruffled and messy. His long feet hung over the edge of the couch, one of them covered with a bloodstained bandage from his knee down. You flash a half-smile, hearing his deep snoring.  
  
At least someone is getting some sleep around here.  
  
Lifting your gaze, you glance out the soaring windows - watching the sunlight rise across over the treeline. Narrowing your eyes, you notice a figure pacing down the soggy field towards the property. Walking to the front door you open it quickly, cursing internally as it creaks slightly. You inhale the crisp morning air, making eye-contact with the man.  
  
“Shouldn’t you be asleep?”, he asks as he shoves his hair away from his face.    
  
You give half a shrug, noticing that he has returned from scavenging empty-handed. With the air growing colder, food seemed to become more scarce. If freezing to death didn’t take you out —  starvation _certainly_ would.  
  
“We need to keep moving”  
  
“Luke, you know we can’t do that”, you say while shoving your hands in your pockets.  
  
“Would you rather starve to death? There’s. **Nothing** . Here”, he insists. Luke had a military background, and though his close combat skills benefited your group more than once — his hunting skills still needed a bit of practice. Were it not for Luke, both you and Isaac would have died a long time ago.  
  
“Give me your knife and I’ll go”, you held up your palm in front of you.  
  
Luke seemed reluctant, his eyes resting on you for several seconds before letting out a harsh breath. Over time it had become quite apparent to you that he was not your biggest fan — but even Luke could not deny your skillset. Handing you the sheathed knife, you tucked it into the loops around your waist.  
  
“Five hours. If you’re not back before then—”  
  
“I will be. Don’t worry”  
  
“I don’t”, he mutters before stepping through the front door and slamming it shut — leaving you standing in the pale light. _Dickhead_ .  
  
You make your way down the steps of the porch, your long strides leading you over the field. The leaves under you were crisp to the touch of your heavy steps. Isaac’s injured limb had rendered him immobile, leaving your small group of three one man down. Taking a deep breath, you try to ignore the gnawing sensation in the pit of your stomach, making your body weaker than you would ever care to admit. Your group desperately needed food, but Isaac needed antibiotics more than anything else. The compound fracture to his leg could easily attract a deadly infection. Add starvation to that and he would not make it past the winter.  
  
Tilting your head up, you come to a sudden halt in the middle of the open field - noticing a movement in the treeline ahead. _A walker_? Grabbing the gun from your holster, you raise your steady arms up in front of you and take aim. The figure moves abruptly, disappearing between the thick branches.  
  
“Walker’s don’t move like that”, you mutter.   
  
Gazing over your shoulder towards the farmhouse, you contemplate warning Isaac and Luke. Biting your lip, you decide there is no time. Fuck it. Facing forward you begin to sprint, your feet flying over frozen grass and leaves —  your mind racing faster than your feet as they carry you further into the woods.


	2. Little piglets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Negan puffs, and he huffs, and he turns your whole world upside down.

Your boots pound heavily against the soil beneath you as you push your way through the dense forest. Your breath comes in short gasps, a thin layer of sweat coating the nape of your neck. " **Stop**!", you call out. The tall figure comes to a sudden halt a mear few feet in front of you. He raises both his hands in a surrendering gesture, his broad shoulders clothed in a leather vest and flannel shirt. "Turn around", you insist — willing your voice to sound assertive. Aiming the gun to the centre of his back, your finger rests on the trigger.   
  
The man does as you ask, turning around sluggishly with his hands still raised. His blonde shoulder-length hair sticks to the sides of his face, displaying a rather unpleasant scar running down his one of the sides. For a moment you body tenses, a motion that does not go unnoticed. A wicked smile creeps from the corner of his mouth.   
  
"You were spying on us", your remark matter-of-factly. "—Tell me why"   
  
The man remains silent, his smile never dropping. Narrowing your eyes, you move your aim to the ground in front of him and pull the trigger - the gunshot causing him to flinch slightly. " ** _Don't_** make me ask again", you warn — your aim now locked between his dark blue eyes.   
  
"It's not me you should be worrying about, _darlin'_ " the man says. The cockiness of his voice sends a shiver down your spine.   
  
Shortening the distance between the two of you, your grip on the handgun tightens.   
  
"He's coming for you now"  
  
"He? What the fuck are you talking ab—", your eyes dart to his vest, noticing the radio transceiver displayed in his pocket. _Oh shit._  
  
The sound of roaring engines in the distance cause you to whirl around. Your thoughts immediately drift to the farmhouse; to Isaac and Luke. Turning back, you find the spot where the scarred man stood empty. _Where the fuck did he go?_ Deciding there is no time, you make a run for it. Adrenaline courses through your veins, sending your legs going so quick they feel like they might explode at any moment. Your high ponytail whips in the wind. Panic grips at your heart, causing your heart to beat so loud it blocks out any other sound.   
  
You reach the open field, grateful that there seem to be no trucks in sight - though the thundering sound of engines confirms they are not far away. Springing up the porch, you yank the front door open. Luke jumps to his feet, pulling his gun from his holster in a split second. "What the hell, Becca?", he exclaims — rolling his eyes in annoyance. You close the door behind you, looking over at Isaac who is still laid up on the couch just as you left him earlier this morning. His brows are furrowed, his pale blue eyes meeting yours. "Are you alright?", he asks - his voice dripping with concern. You give him a quick nod, trying to steady your breathing. Though Isaac was the tallest member of your group, you always had to remind yourself that he was the youngest by far.   
  
"We need to leave, now", you waste no time before grabbing a medium sized backpack from the coat hanger. It contains a few bottles of water and some ammunition, enough to keep you going for a few days at least. You swing it over your shoulder before walking over to Isaac - helping him to his feet. He curses under his breath, his leg clearly causing him a lot of pain still. Luke walks over, putting Isaac's arm around his shoulder as he limps towards the front door.   
  
"Care to explain the sudden change of mind? You didn't seem to keen on the idea this morning when I—"  
  
"There's no time to explain", you cut him off. The sound of engines approaching confirms that there is, _indeed_ , no time. All three of you freeze in place. Luke meets your gaze, both of you coming to the same conclusion; **you were all in some deep fucking shit**. The trucks come to a halt in front of the farmhouse, the sound of doors being opened and shut causing your mind to go into overdrive.   
  
"Who is th-", Isaac whispers. You cut him off by raising your hand, motioning for him to stay silent. _4, 5, 6_... You count at least 8 sets of footsteps outside. _Fuck, fucking fuck_. Luke releases the magazine from his handgun, checking it over. He holds up four fingers, motioning for you to check yours. Holding up three fingers, you curse yourself for wasting one on the man in the woods.   
  
"Little pigs, little pigs", a husky voice calls out. "If you don't come out I'll puff and huff, and I'll blow your whole house down!" he cackles.   
  
"You should go out the back, both of you", Isaac whispers - his voice trembling ever so slightly. There was no way you could all make a run for it, not with his fractured leg. You knew it, Luke knew it - and so did Isaac. Gripping his hand, you look him dead in the eye before telling him "Not a _fucking_ chance".   
  
"You've got **one**  minute, little piglets", the voice calls out once again.   
  
A cold shiver creeps through your body as you come to the realization that you are all well and truly fucked. There is no denying it. Looking to Luke, you both nod in mutual understanding. He was never one to back down easy - so you knew this was absolutely excruciating for him. "Follow my lead", he mutters before slipping out from underneath Isaac's arm - leaving him to lean on you. He moves towards the front door, taking in a deep breath before twisting the handle and pulling it open.   
  
Walking close behind him, you hold your breath as all three of you make your way down the front porch.   
  
Standing in front of you are at least twelve men, all carrying a wide range of weaponry. They stand in a straight line, their eyes following your every step. You hang your head low, coming to a halt beside Luke on the muddy path. His back is straight and his chin raised - a clear show of defiance.   
  
"My, my, my", a tall man steps forward — swinging a barbed wire bat in his hand. His broad shoulders sway from side to side, his leather jacket complimenting his frame. His smile widens as his hazel eyes trace over your body. "What the **fuck** do we have here", he chuckles. Your gaze is fixed on the wooden bat in his leather gloved hand, your limbs numb with absolute terror.   
  
The man takes several long strides, coming to a halt in front of Luke. He twirls his bat in his hand, before bringing it level with Luke's face. Isaac's grip on your hand tightens, as you feel his tall body start to shiver next to you. "This", the man begins - his bat a mear inch from Luke's chin. "— This is Lucille. She is **awesome**. But believe me, she can be a **bitch** when she wants to be", Luke's hands squeezed into fists. _Don't do it, please._  
  
The man turns and paces back and forth on the muddy path, his huge grin never faltering. "I seem to have forgotten my fucking manners", he exclaims, taking a dramatic bow in front of your group. His entire demeanour reeking with arrogance and superiority. "—I'm Negan" he looks over to his men. "And these are my Saviours"  
  
You stand there silently, trying to hide the tremors in your fingertips. Fuck this guy. Fuck his so-called Saviours. Negan comes to a halt in front of you and Isaac, licking his bottom lip slowly. He leans back slightly, his sincere smile exposing his pearly whites. "What is your name, _princess_?" he whispers seductively.   
  
"Leave her alone", Luke snaps through clenched teeth. Negan lets out a low chuckle, tapping the barrel of the bat three times in the muddy soil. Two of his Saviours step forward, grabbing a hold of Luke's upper arms to hold him in place. Your eyes widen as Negan's heavy boots bring him within breathing distance of Luke. Bringing Lucille up under his chin, he forces Luke to look him dead in the eye - his feline grin now fading.   
  
"I don't take orders from you, soldier", he says just loud enough for everyone to hear. "—In fact, you take order from **me** now"   
  
Without warning, Luke is hauled away from the line by the two men. He struggles against their grip, earning himself a blow to his gut. Before you can even open your mouth to protest, two more men appear - their persistent hands grabbing a hold of Isaac and dragging him away from you. He lets out a painful sob, his eyes squeezing shut with the agony of his leg. " **Don't fucking touch him** ", you hiss - managing to land a blow to one of the Saviours jaws. The man curses loudly as you raise your fist again. A gloved hand grips your wrist, spinning you around until you are mear inches away from Negan's salt and pepper beard.   
  
"Don't worry doll, you're coming with me" his says, his Cheshire cat grin sending a shiver down your spine.   



	3. A Sanctuary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Negan does not take well to your snarky comment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Hope you'll enjoy this new chapter! I will admit it is quite short, but hopefully, it will be a good build-up of what's to come.

Adrenaline shoots through your veins as the engine kicks off, the sudden movement sending the truck flying forward at immense speed. Your hangs struggle against the zip ties applied to your wrists, the friction irritating your skin. A Saviour had been courteous enough to place a black hood over your head as he dragged you towards the passenger's seat - the thick material blocking out any sense of direction.   
  
Negan's body radiates heat from the drivers' seat, the eery silence between you setting your nerves on high alert. The seriousness of the situation sends your mind into overdrive as a thousand questions race through your mind — **one**  of them more pivotal than the rest.   
  
"Where are you taking my group?", your chest rises and falls rapidly as you anxiously await his reply.   
  
"They're not far behind", he begins. The truck swerves slightly, a movement which you make a mental note of. "—You'll see them soon enough, doll"  
  
"Am I supposed to take your word for it?", you challenge. Every ounce of logic and reason in your body screams for you to shut your mouth. The man is terror in human form, you should be scared of him — **hell** — you were. Your trembling fingertips were evident to that.   
  
A low chuckle escapes Negan, his hands tightening on the steering wheel as it brings you onto uneven ground.   
  
"Fuck me, I guess I haven't given you any reason to trust me—"  
  
"You put a baseball bat to my friends face. Trust _me_ , that ship sailed a long fucking time ago", you mumble through clenched teeth.   
  
The truck comes to a sudden halt, sending you lunging forward in your seat. Several trucks pass by, the sound of their engines disappearing in the distance. You sit there for what seems like hours, the deafening silence between the two of you growing more distressing by the second. _Fuck_ , you curse mentally - realizing just how much you have well and truly screwed up. Negan did **not** seem like a man that appreciated being talked back to.   
  
All of a sudden the hood is pulled away, causing you to squint as your eyes adjust to the brightness. Negan places his arm over the back of his seat, adjusting himself to face you. The movement causes you to flinch in anticipation of his reaction.   
  
"What is your name?", the tone of his voice gives away nothing— his dark eyes filled with something you can't quite recognize.   
  
The question catches you off guard. "R-Rebecca" you stutter, not sure where exactly he is going with this.  
  
"Well then, _Rebecca_ ", Negan leans in towards you - close enough for you to feel his peppermint breath on your skin. Wrestling with the zip ties, you are quick to realize there is nowhere for you to escape. Pushing your body up against the passenger door, you hold your breath. "—I don't know what fucked up shit you, the kid and the Solider have been up to out on the little prairie — but I'm shutting that shit down _right now_. You see, I am in a bit of a fucking predicament. I need able men", he brings up his gloved hand, his finger pointing to your chest. "—And **_women_** , to fight with me. But this is where you need to be careful, sweetheart—"  
  
Negan brings his hand under your chin, his touch sending a shudder through your body. "—I might need **you**. I might need your group. **But you need me more** "  
  
Excuse me?! Your mouth opens to offer him a response, though you quickly come to your senses. Negan's grin widens, his hand running through his salt and peppered beard.   
  
"—I can offer security. Food. Shelter. A chance to build a life again — a **Sanctuary**. If you're willing to fight for it. How long did you really think you could all hold up in that fucking shithole? The kid can barely walk, what would you do if a herd passed?"  
   
  
He was right, and you hated him for it. The farmhouse was only supposed to be a temporary hide-out. You were partially to blame for Isaac's fracture - you should have kept a more careful eye on him while scavenging for supplies. Luke never let you live it down, taking his frustration out on you every chance he got. Could you really blame him? Isaac's injury had caused you to stay at the farm longer than intended, and which no transport to speak of — there was no way in hell you'd ever make it if a herd passed.   
  
Leaning back in his seat, Negan's gaze never leaves yours. There's an intensity to his eyes that scares the hell out of you.   
  
"I like you, Rebecca. You've got fire — and I fucking _love_ that in a woman", his grin widens as your hands ball into fists. "—But talk back to me like that again, and I can assure you Lucille will start to get really jealous. Now, I'm going to put the hood back on — and you're going to be a good girl — understood?"  
  
 _Fuck you, Negan._  
  
"I'm sorry, did I fucking stutter? I said is that understood" he raises his voice slightly, the sound echoing in the cramped space.   
  
"Understood", you mutter. Negan nods, his devilish grin resuming. He places the hood back over your head, stripping away your sight.   
  
As the truck starts moving, you have no choice but to lean back in your seat and let this maniac drive you off into uncertainty.


End file.
